


Arranged

by ACB1



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-04-23 23:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4896949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACB1/pseuds/ACB1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A temporary arrangement - an agreement, a marriage - borne out of desperation and the need for protection complicates an already complicated relationship for Red and Liz. Post-Season Two, tiny spoiler for Season Three. This will be a two-parter - hopefully completed before the premier Thursday. Also, I do not own The Blacklist or its characters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“You knew this going in, and I am not sure why you are coming to me now with these … concerns.”

“Because this is a business contract, and it is beginning to not feel like one.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, sweetheart. I don’t know how to stop you from feeling something.”

“Yes, you do. You know exactly how. And, that is part of the problem. Isn’t it?”

“Lizzie, what is this about? I have held up my end of this – as promised. We are very close to getting what we want. Your exoneration, my immunity deal. It is all going according to plan.”

“It is. That’s true,” she nodded then, lifting her hands in acquiescence, looking at him another moment before turning away and walking from the room. 

He had overstepped somehow. He had been working so hard not to make an already difficult situation that much more intolerable for her. But, for the life of him, he did not know what brought on this latest bit of ire. He had been working nearly around the clock for weeks. He had been able to cripple the Cabal, help get Cooper reinstated, get the powers that be to recognize Tom Connelly’s role in the Cabal, his threats to the task force. It was all going well. It had taken time – months and months – but, now, finally, things were going their way. Soon, he hoped she would be able to go home, possibly even be able to return to work – something that had seemed like an impossibility several months ago. 

But, they had done something to protect themselves along the way, something he now knew had been, though seemingly necessary at the time, unwise. They had gotten married. In doing so, they would never have to testify against one another, never have to worry about rights or visitation or the flow of information or money. In their darkest days, when the danger was encroaching, it had seemed logical, smart even. But now, he knew it had been a mistake. A very big mistake. One for which he was ready and willing to accept the blame.

 

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Eight months ago she had dyed her hair blonde. And, when she had emerged from the bathroom with her new hair color, she had seen the look on his face, the curl of his tongue, heard his stammer. And, she wasn’t stupid. But, it had been a passing thing – that tightness in her belly, the heat that spread from it. They had been on the run, and safety had been their focus; they were united only in staying alive, staying one step ahead. But, when she had floundered and doubted and fretted, he had been there with a soothing word, a knowing look, a comfortable shoulder. And, when he had had too much to drink, or when his eyes had gone dark and the grimness of the situation took hold, she had purposefully brightened, pulling him back from the brink, doing her best to help him cope. They were reliant on one another, dependent even.

Soon enough, the madness increased, the running became desperate, and that was when he proposed an arrangement. To keep her safe, to keep them together, to forestall what seemed an inevitable capture and subsequent interrogation, he said they should marry – temporarily. She had said no immediately and heatedly. It was a ridiculous idea. One she could not even believe he had suggested in light of her former marriage. Did he think she would engage in a second lie? Really? She had slammed a door in his face and then kicked it for good measure. 

Oh, but three weeks later she had changed her mind. Ressler had been two steps behind her; he had only to reach out and grab her. But, her incessant workouts, her near marathon running jaunts to clear her head, had allowed her the ability to push herself as he tired. She had made it to the waiting car and then to the waiting helicopter that took her back to Red. She had burst into the dining room of their safe house on Long Island and agreed to the marriage, wanting to do it as soon as possible. It hadn’t seemed impulsive at the time; it had seemed prudent. She had nearly been captured. That would have been the end for and of them. She would never have seen him again. That was a certainty. She had needed to ensure they were tied inexorably together – for both of their sakes, for their protection. That was what she had told herself. But, that night, alone in her bed, for just a second, she had allowed herself to acknowledge the lie and feel the truth. 

The wedding was as unceremonious a thing as it could be, but it was legal. She wanted no ring, no outward sign of what they had done, except the paperwork with both of their signatures – that told the story well enough. There was proof of what they did, if it was ever required. If all ended well, as they hoped it would, they could divorce, and no one would be the wiser. The marriage took place two months after they had run from D.C. Now, six months later, it had become abundantly clear to Liz that it didn’t matter if no one else was the wiser, because she was. She was. And, with the clearing of her name looking more imminent than impossible, she was becoming unglued, unhinged, unflatteringly desperate, and she had no one to blame but herself. 

 

************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

“What would you have me do, Lizzie?” He was exasperated, and after so long a time together, he couldn’t hide that from her. He couldn’t hide much of anything anymore. 

“I would have you seek an annulment for us. Pay for it, buy it. Whatever you need to do. Just do it.” He watched her pace the room – the study in a lovely Chicago penthouse.

“That is unwise. Very unwise. And, you are well aware of that.”

“Do it anyway.” She stopped in front of him, several feet away and out of his reach.

“No. Now is not the time. Getting our marriage license slipped into the mix and filed away unbeknownst to those looking for us was one thing. A divorce or an annulment is much trickier, Lizzie. No. When the time is right, it will happen. I don’t plan to challenge you on that; I will do as you wish.”

“As I wish? As I wish? What does that mean? What about what you wish, Red? Huh?”

He turned away and reached for his drink on the desk. The conversation was over. 

 

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

The strain of waiting was taking its toll. She knew she must appear a caged animal to him lately. She felt like one, felt herself unraveling, chomping at the bit, and she needed to calm down. She needed to relax. To escape. Sex. Oh, now that would help. That would be so wonderful, so delicious. To just lose herself in something for just a little while. To focus her energies on just one thing. Pleasure. It had been a long time. A long, long time. Would he even consider it? With her? She took a deep breath. 

“Are you alright, sweetheart?”

“What?” She had forgotten he was in the room. He had been quiet and facing away from her, looking out the tall window at the night, watching the city below move and sway. Now, he was looking at her – curiously. 

He moved toward her, his hands in his pockets, his head tilted slightly. “Are you alright, Lizzie? You just made an odd sound. And, you look … feverish.”

His nearness was disarming. She stepped back – once, twice. “I’m fine. Must be the wine. Had too much. I need to go to bed. Good night, Red.”

Before she could move, he stepped forward – one step, another – and gently gripped her upper arms. He openly assessed her, biting the inside of his cheek and then pursing his lips as he did it. She wanted to slap him. “Hmmm. You didn’t have much wine. Maybe you are getting sick. Shall I help you to your room and then with whatever else you require?”

So innocent. The bastard. She knew she was a terrible actress. She knew he could probably see right through her. She couldn’t even begin to imagine all her wanton thoughts had done to her complexion, to her eyes. Dammit. She swallowed to find her throat dry and managed to shake her head while licking her lips nervously. “No. Thanks. I’m fine. Really.”

He narrowed his eyes then and caressed her arms. “I am here for you. Whatever you need. You know that. Whatever it is.” No. No, she thought. He wasn’t. He would be shocked at her thoughts.

She felt herself sag a bit in his loose hold on her. And, just like that her desires were squashed by an overwhelming sadness, a want beyond the physical that couldn’t be satisfied without sacrificing too much.

“Lizzie. What is it? Tell me,” he entreated. “You have not been yourself lately. Please. What’s wrong?”

She shook her head again and tried to smile. “Nothing. Good night.” 

She managed to walk away then. And, when she was securely locked in her bedroom, she pressed her face into her pillow and cried. 

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

When they got word that Liz had been cleared of all charges against her and Red’s immunity deal was in place once again, Red proposed a celebratory dinner. They were in a small Southern town at the time, and Red knew a chef who would come to the antebellum home where they were staying and cook for them. It was comfort food at its best – fried pork chops, macaroni and cheese, collard greens, black-eyed peas, cornbread, and banana pudding. It was indulgent, decidedly decadent. When they were done, Red went outside with a brandy and a cigar, and Liz realized the house was quiet. No sounds of others moving around. No peek of Dembe around each corner. For the first time in eight months, they were alone. 

She had dressed for dinner, something that was now a habit, first borne out of respect for Red’s simple pleasures and the need for ritual of some sort while on the run. She glanced down at her body-hugging navy blue dress and felt her hair – still blonde and pulled up into a French twist. Despite the elegance of the rest of her, her feet were bare. She felt comfortable - full of delicious food, content with the quiet surrounding her and the peace of knowing she was safe, and happy in the company of the man outside. Is this how it would be, she wondered. To be his wife for real? To be married to him? Would she feel this way? How wrong was it to be contemplating such things? How misguided and potentially devastating was this train of thought?

Their business arrangement was nearing its end. She would be going home soon. She could resume her old life. But, when she thought about that, she couldn’t remember what it had looked like. She didn’t have a home. There was no one to return to. She had a job that she enjoyed, but she knew it was tainted forever no matter the legalities. When she thought about what Washington held for her, the answer kept coming back – very little. Right now, the only thing that felt close to real, solid, was Red and, oddly enough, being married to him. He and that institution anchored her in the world. And, she felt, without much doubt, that both would be going away very soon. 

She thought about heading upstairs, putting on her pajamas and falling asleep to a good book – like she had so many nights before. But, tonight was singular. The last of its lot. And, for tonight at least, she had a husband outside. And, for just tonight, she wanted to pretend the charade was real. She had done it before – she was an old pro at holding up her end of sham marriages. Tomorrow they could discuss their annulment or divorce. Tonight she wanted to know what it felt like to be alone with him again – and to be his wife. 

So, she walked outside to found him reclining on a plush lounge chair. His shoes and socks had been taken off, as had his jacket and tie. 

“Hey. Mind if I join you,” she asked, hating the shyness her voice had taken on. 

“Of course not. Sit,” he glanced over at her and smiled. He looked relaxed, sleepy. “Look at that full moon, Lizzie. So big and bright and low in the sky. Like you could reach out and touch it.”

“It’s beautiful,” she agreed, breathless. 

He looked over at her, his eyes more alert. He watched her for a moment, and when he spoke his voice was low and measured: “You are free, Lizzie. Tomorrow I will arrange to have you fly home to Washington. Cooper said you can go back to work whenever you’re ready. I will make sure you have enough funds to secure a place to live, help you in any way I can until you are back on your feet.”

“What about you, Red?” Her voice was smaller than she would have liked, tremulous. 

“Even with the immunity deal, it isn’t wise that I go back to D.C. right now. I will stay in touch. And, I will make sure the papers are delivered to you, of course. Annulment or divorce, whichever you prefer.”

“I don’t want to talk about that tonight. I don’t want to think about tomorrow yet. Can we just enjoy one another’s company for the rest of the evening?”

He took her in, surveying her as he often did. What he found worried him greatly, but he agreed. He agreed to enjoy her, at his detriment – and hers.

They talked for hours. She indulged in his brandy, and when the night got chilly, she allowed him to cover her with his jacket, both loathe to get up and go inside and break the spell that encased them. He smoked his cigar, blowing the smoke away from her. Regardless, she smelled of his cigar, his cologne, his alcohol. She was surrounded in a warm cocoon of intoxicating scents that she would always associate with him. She hadn’t felt so relaxed in nearly a year. 

When he took hold of her hand to walk her inside, and to bed, she let him. She was drowsy and brandy-laden and drunk on conversation and colorful tales told well. When they reached her bedroom door, he stopped and let go of her hand. “Good night, sweetheart. Sleep well,” he said so close to her ear. Then, he placed a lingering kiss on her cheek. As his face began to slip past hers, she turned, her lips connecting with the side of his. She kissed him back, slowly, as lingeringly as he did her. And, without pulling back, she whispered against him, “Good night, Red.” She turned then and entered her bedroom, closing the door softly behind her.

 

*************************************************************************************************************************************************************

In the weeks that followed, Liz did return to Washington, and Red flew to parts unknown. True to his word, he sent her divorce papers quickly. He called, but she never answered; he left her messages, explaining that divorce would prove easier than an annulment, asking her to call him back so they could discuss things, asking how she was fairing. But, she did not return his calls. She couldn’t. If there was any hope for her, she needed to move past him. So, she went back to work, found an apartment, bought furniture, established a new routine. She did everything she could to recapture her old life, her old way of thinking. But, her old life left her wanting. It left her lonely. She felt adrift and, at times, bereft. But, she refused to call him. And, she couldn’t face the papers that sat in the drawer of her bedside table. In fact, they left her with such conflict she avoided her bedroom altogether, often sleeping on the sofa. Why she didn’t just move the papers to another location she couldn’t say. She knew what she was doing was childish, an exercise in avoidance, irresponsible, reckless, passive-aggressive, and so many other things. She knew she wasn’t handling things well. She was disappointed in herself, in her lack of acceptance, in her lack of gratefulness for the resurrection of her life. She knew all of this. And, deep down, deep, deep down, she knew why she was behaving as she was, but she couldn't face that either.

**********************************************************************************************************************************************************

Two months after her return to D.C., he knocked at her door. When she answered, she took in the concern that etched his face, the strain around his mouth and eyes, and immediately felt guilty and a tiny bit afraid. He walked past her into the apartment. He looked around as he took off his coat and hat. She took them from him and placed them on her coat rack. He didn’t wait to be invited in, but moved through the place as if he owned it, surveying every room. He didn’t own it, though; she was renting it – with her own money. 

When he finally turned to her, the air around him had changed. He was in control again; she could feel his displeasure, his annoyance. “Why haven’t you signed the papers, Elizabeth?”

She was still looking at him, taking in his demeanor, his clothes, reveling in his presence, however angry he was. She had missed him. She had wanted to see him, had worried about him, had wondered where he was. 

“How have you been, Red? Where have you been?”

“The papers. Why haven’t you signed them? I asked you to sign them and mail them to the address on the envelope enclosed. It should have been done weeks ago.” 

“Where did you go after we left Georgia?”

“If you wanted information, you should have answered my calls. Now, I’m here, and I want you to sign the papers and give them to me,” he sat on her sofa and crossed his legs, prepared to wait. He spread his arms across the back of the sofa, seemingly relaxed, but she saw the twitch beneath his eye. He wasn’t happy with her, and it made her stomach twist uncomfortably. 

“When are you coming back to D.C.?” 

“I’m not coming back,” he answered looking down, straightening his shirt sleeve. “Now, the papers. I have a schedule to keep. So, if you don’t mind.” 

She felt faint. She reached behind her and grabbed hold of the chair, sitting in it before she fell down. She needed to breathe through this. He said he wasn’t coming back, but that couldn’t be true. He wouldn’t do that, would he? He wouldn’t just leave after all they had been through.

“Elizabeth?” His voice gentled when she didn’t respond. “Lizzie?”

She finally looked up at him. The softness in his eyes, the gentle press of his lips; she knew that expression. It was a cross between affection and pity, and it wasn’t what she wanted. It felt worse than his anger. 

“Why the hurry,” she asked, doing her best to combat what she was feeling, what he was conveying. “Marrying someone else?”

He didn’t respond to that question; she hadn’t expected him to. She stood then on shaky legs and made her way slowly to her bedroom. But, as she reached the threshold, opened the door and peered in, her carefully made bed mocked her. She had married him so she could see him again, so no matter what happened they could be near each other, be there for each other, protect each other. So, wasn’t it a joke that now that they were safe, they would be separated by choice, that they would live apart, move on from one another, have little to nothing to do with one another – permanently. Ha. It was a joke, a very bad one.

She walked back down the hallway to her living room, where he now sat with his head in his hands. He had heard her fast footfalls and quickly rearranged himself, albeit too late for him to have escaped her scrutiny. It didn’t matter anyway; she wouldn’t be deterred from her decision, no matter how he looked or what he did. 

She came around to face him, standing directly in front of him, close enough to touch. “I’m not signing them,” she told him, as reckless and resolute as he’d ever seen her. “The papers? I’m not signing them. So, you can go ahead and go. Keep your schedule. Because I'm not signing anything.”


	2. Chapter 2

“What are you doing, Elizabeth?”

“As I wish,” she said, calling up the words he had used, the charge he had laid at her feet months before regarding the ultimate fate of their arrangement. 

“This is not a good choice.” He had leaned forward on the sofa, his knees and shins now pressed against hers. His eyes, narrowed and glinting, bored into hers in an effort to intimidate. She was familiar with that expression, too, preferred it to the one of kind sympathy from moments ago. 

“And, yet, it is what I wish.” She refused to break eye contact with him. She felt a trickle of sweat run down the center of her back. 

He shook his head slowly, his eyes hard. “You are making a mistake, and I must say I am perplexed as to why you are making this particular one. Many of your previous ... misjudgments, miscalculations … I understood. But, this? I do not. For someone who, at every turn, tried to find a way out of this … arrangement … for someone who entered into it reluctantly with reasonable and founded hesitation and disgust … I, I … I am at a loss. You have me stymied.”

She stood unmoved, unresponsive. 

“Sign the papers, Lizzie. Move on from this.” Lurking behind the hardness, she detected a slight hint of desperation in his tone. 

“No.” She could not, did not waver.

“Letting this continue any longer than it already has will compromise you – your career, your future relationships, your sense of well-being. Trust me, the consequences of this, the ramifications – you don’t want them.” His tone was low and controlled, but his restraint was slipping; she saw his clenched fists, heard his quick breaths, and knew he could not continue in this vein for much longer without showing her something he did not want her to see. “Elizabeth, sign the papers.” 

“No.” 

“Alright, then. I have an appointment to keep.” He stood, causing his body to press against hers for a moment until she backed away. He stepped past her and walked to the foyer. He was already donning his hat and coat by the time she had the wherewithal to move. But, when she moved she did so quickly.

“Wait a minute. When will I see you again?” She had beat him to the door, blocking his exit. 

“I can’t say.”

“You can’t or you won’t? Why aren’t you coming back to D.C.?”

“Good-bye, Elizabeth.”

She stood with her back against the door another moment, looking at him, taking in the smoothness of his skin, his neat sideburns, the curve of his lips, his angry eyes hidden beneath those thick lashes. She had missed his handsome face that had become so achingly familiar. And, right now she desperately wanted his warm smile, his reassurance, his easy encouragement, but, in this situation, he would be the last person to give her those things. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was quite possibly making a grave mistake, one she would live to regret. Her impulsive behavior had again eclipsed all reason. But, it was done now. It was done. So, when she opened her eyes again, she managed a small smile and a friendly but firm, “Good-bye, Red.” She shifted to open the door for him. With a purse of his lips and a nod, he was gone. 

*************************************************************************************************************

A week later he called her: “Will you now agree to sign the papers and let us be done with this, Elizabeth?”

“Where are you, Red? Tell me where you are.” She shifted in her bed. It was midnight in Washington, but certainly not where he was – not by the sound of it. She heard the shouts of what sounded like street vendors and the noise of traffic, particularly car horns. 

“I require an answer from you.”

“If I answer you, will you answer me?” She liked listening to him talk. She moved to lie on her back, positioning the phone comfortably between her ear and the pillow. 

“This isn’t a game, Agent Keen. This isn’t some tit-for-tat elementary schoolyard round of tug-of-war.”

“I am well aware of that. You are in India, aren’t you?”

There was a prolonged silence, but just as she was about to ask if he were still on the line, he answered: “May I ask how you know that?”

“I just guessed, Red. I’m not having you followed,” she joked, laughing throatily, relieved and comforted just knowing where he was in the world.

She was greeted by more silence, and she wanted to play with him, tease him. “Red, will you bring me back something? From one of the street vendors? Something fun and unexpected.” 

But, he wouldn’t play along. “You’ve gotten your answer. Now, what about mine.” 

“No. I won’t sign the papers.”

***************************************************************************************************************

Two weeks later, he called again: “I expect and very much hope that by now you have had a change of heart. I expect and very much hope you are now thinking clearly, that you are settling into your new life and are ready to move forward with it. And, I very much hope that when I ask you to sign the papers this time, you will be reasonable and agree.”

She hadn’t even said, ‘Hello.’ It was 2:30 a.m., and now she had to wonder if he was doing this on purpose – calling her when she was likely asleep, vulnerable, more likely to accommodate him. She had only been asleep for a couple of hours. A long, hard case had finally wrapped up, and the team had gone for drinks after work. One drink had led to two to three and on and on. And, she had eventually found herself embroiled in a deep conversation with an attractive attorney, one who asked for her number, who walked her home, who kissed her hand before kissing her willing mouth, and one who didn’t make it past her front door for reasons she didn’t want to contemplate. And, she sure as hell wanted someone to make it past her front door. Red had chosen the wrong night to call her. 

“I don’t want to talk to you right now, Reddington. I don’t know what time it is where you are, but it’s the middle of the night here, and I was asleep. And, I want to go back to sleep.”

“I know what time it is, Elizabeth, and I also know you weren’t available for conversation earlier this evening.”

Her eyes, which had slipped shut, opened again, and her foggy brain tried to decipher what he meant. “How would you know that?”

“I am in Washington. I came by your apartment earlier this evening. I wanted to speak to you, but you weren’t at home. So, I decided to try again several hours later, and I arrived just in time to see you having an interesting, very intimate exchange with a dandy of a fellow. I didn’t want to interrupt. You made a smart-looking couple. Seemed to have an abundance of chemistry, too. And, I must admit it does beg the question – why not divorce so your dalliances aren’t adulterous? In many cultures that behavior is punishable by death. In others, it’s quite acceptable. But, why put yourself in a position of risk?”

Her face burned, even as anger churned within her. He was a son of a bitch. And, she was ever willful and still slightly drunk. “What are women with absentee husbands supposed to do?”

“Well, again, there are various schools of thought on this. In some cultures, women have little recourse, it’s true; but, in others, they can divorce. You are fortunate in that you belong to the latter. Sleep well, Agent Keen.” 

**************************************************************************************************

A week later, for the first time since she returned to Washington, she called him. “You never came by. When you were in town. Why not?”

“You seemed busy – with work and your gentleman friend. I thought it best to give you time – and space.”

“Oh.” 

“Is there something else? Something of consequence you might be ready to discuss?”

“No.”

“Well then, should we say good night?”

“Good night. But, Red?”

“Yes?”

“I just wanted you to know … I feel like maybe I should tell you … I’m not seeing him. The man you saw me with that night?”

“That’s too bad. From the look of him, he would have been quite a catch.”

“He isn’t what I want.”

“I see. Well, good night, Agent Keen.”

********************************************************************************************

The bullets came from out of nowhere, and in the midst of the barrage, one brought her down swiftly. Within seconds the blood loss was significant enough that Ressler was screaming for back up, for an ambulance, understanding immediately the precariousness of her condition. They had been ambushed, and she had been shot in the thigh; her femoral artery had been hit. 

“Keen! Keen! Stay with me! Come on, Liz!”

The burning from her wound radiated throughout her body, and that immense pain coupled with the great loss of blood caused her to lose consciousness quickly. Too quickly. The team secured the area, killing all who needed killing, and got her out. Ressler insisted on riding in the ambulance with her. “She can’t be alone, sir. If she doesn’t make this … she can’t be alone.”

Her injury was so severe Cooper called Red as he sped behind Liz’s ambulance to the hospital. “If you are anywhere near here, Reddington, hurry. If you are not, pray.”  
When Red and Dembe reached the emergency room, they were told she was being prepped for surgery. “I want to see her before she goes in.”

“Only family, Reddington,” Ressler repeated what he had been told. 

Red bypassed him and went to the desk. “I need to see Elizabeth Keen. Quickly. She is being prepared for emergency surgery.”

“I know who she is, sir,” the receptionist nodded. “But, as I’ve told the others, family only.”

“I’m her husband. Take me to her.”

“The hell you are.” Ressler rose from his seat, aggressively approaching Red.

“The hell I am. Get out of the way, Donald. Now.” Red pushed past him and followed the attendant back to find Liz. 

When Red approached her, he had to, for a moment, look away and take a deep breath. 

“Sir, we have managed to staunch the bleeding for now, but we need to repair the damage to the artery, to the rest of her leg. She lost a lot of blood; we are giving her more now. She is far from stable. So, you have a minute. Then, we have to get her back there. Do you understand? Sir? Take a minute. We’ll be back for her shortly,” the nurse waited for his acknowledgement before stepping back, giving Red the illusion of privacy. 

Her eyes were closed. He was told she had regained consciousness, but she had been given strong medication for the pain and in preparation for the surgery. She was classified as critical, and she looked it. She appeared a ghost before him. 

“Sweetheart, can you hear me?” He stroked her hair, her face. “Lizzie? Lizzie? Wake up for me for just a minute. Please, sweetheart.” She made no move, no indication she had heard him, so he leaned down and whispered in her ear, pressing his cheek against hers: “Be strong, Lizzie. Please be strong for me. I am here for you. You know that. I am always here for you. I will be waiting. Please, be strong.” He kissed her cheek then, her brow, her temple.

“Sir, we need to go now. We will update you in the surgical waiting room,” the nurse spoke as she began to move around Liz, as others came in to begin the final preparations. He watched in a fog, moved from the small room as Liz’s gurney did until the operating room doors closed before him.

The next few hours Red would best forget. But, finally, when she was in recovery and stabilized long enough following the operation, he was allowed back to see her once again. She was awake this time, but barely. She didn’t notice him until he took her hand gently in his and leaned down to kiss her forehead. She noticed his smile was different, brilliant but different. “Hi, Lizzie. Oh, sweetheart, I’m so happy to see you,” he said, peering down at her face. 

“Red. You’re here.” Her voice was so quiet and scratchy. He reached for her cup of water and helped her drink a small amount, before he answered.

“I’ve been here. Cooper called me. He told me about the shooting.”

“Where is he? Where is everyone?”

“They are all here, all very relieved you are here, too. But, right now only family is allowed back here,” he caressed her hand with his fingertips.

She grinned then, a lopsided, drug-addled grin. “And, I didn’t sign the divorce papers, so you are still my husband. Even though you don’t want to be. Even though you want to be far away from me.” Her grin disappeared then, swiftly replaced by a welling of tears. “Don’t you miss me, Red? Because I miss you.”

“Lizzie, you need to rest now. You have been through too much to worry about this. You are on some very strong painkillers. Let them work. Relax. I am not leaving you. I will not leave you,” he leaned down close to her; he wanted her to see his eyes, to believe him. 

“I would never leave you. Never,” she mumbled as she closed her eyes. “I feel like I’m floating. Red?”

“Yes, Lizzie. I’m here.”

“I’m glad you’re calling me that again – Lizzie.”

“Sleep, sweetheart. You are going to be fine.”

“And, sweetheart. I like that. Red?” Her voice was getting softer, her words more and more slurred as the medication began to pull her under again.

“Yes, Lizzie?”

“I love you.”

He caressed her hair, her cheek as her breathing evened out, as she fell into a deep and necessary sleep, a healing sleep. He watched her chest rise and fall, before closing his eyes ever so briefly and sighing, "I know you do, darling girl. I know you do."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful response to this story. I appreciate all of your comments and kudos. These stories always end up going longer than I originally plan. I hope that ends up being a good thing!! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter 3

During Liz’s hospital stay Red assumed the role given him by law – he signed documents for her, answered questions, listened to doctors and inquired about her treatment, her medication, her progress, her rehabilitation. He was nothing if not thorough, fully aware of every small detail regarding her physical health. It was a full understanding, acknowledgment and acceptance of her emotional health that he avoided.

The day after her surgery she remained heavily medicated. Her colleagues came to visit, but she urged them to return to work; she would be fine; they could visit when she was better able to hold a coherent conversation; she thanked them all for their concern and dedication; she was especially grateful to Ressler for being there for her at such a critical time. “You are a good partner, Don,” she smiled. “Even when you were doing your best to capture me all those months ago, I knew why you were doing it – you are one of the good guys, one of the best.”

“You’re high on drugs, Liz, but I’ll take it. I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, pausing, considering. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” Her eyes were getting heavy.

“Why did you really marry him? After all you know about him, all we’ve been through because of him, why do that? And, why not get out of it as soon as you could?”

Her eyes closed as she huffed a laugh. “I have a huge self-destructive streak, Ress. You, of all people, should know that about me.”

*****************************************************************************************************************

When she woke much later in the day, her room was quiet, the lights dim, but all she noticed was immense, exquisite pain; her leg was throbbing so badly she began to sweat and shake. She felt she might pass out. The effort to move, to find the plunger that would deliver the drugs to her IV to relieve her, was incredibly difficult. The first shift of her body on the bed made her blanch and brought forth a loud, agonized, frustrated moan. 

“Lizzie?” Red had come through the door in time to hear her distress. 

She had already collapsed back on the pillow, breathing hard. Her face was contorted in pain, and her eyes were wet with tears of both pain and annoyance. She stared at the ceiling, trying to settle herself. He was beside her instantly, talking, talking, but she couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

“Okay? … Just a few minutes … he is on his way … try to breathe.”

She closed her eyes to the sight of him, the sound of his voice, everything. Her entire being was focused on the pain radiating through her. Nothing else could get through. Eventually her doctor came in, and she was made to answer questions, to rate her pain on a scale of one to ten. She wanted him to punch him, to curse at him. She couldn’t concentrate on his analysis of her condition, couldn’t pay attention to his instructions, couldn’t be the polite patient she knew she should be. When he finally did go, she turned her head away from where he’d stood, angry beyond all reason.

“Lizzie?”

“Give me the plunger.”

“Lizzie, look at me a moment. Before you go back to sleep, I need to talk to you about …”

“Shut up. Just … please. Shut up. Press the button, the plunger. I am in pain, Red. I need medicine. Now.”

He knew she did, but he wanted one lucid moment with her. He wanted her to understand what she had set in motion, what he had. But, he did as she asked. And, within seconds, he saw her face smooth out as the pain dulled. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. He watched her breathe, waited for sleep to claim her again. He took a seat in the chair beside the bed. After a few minutes, when he had finally leaned back in the chair with a sigh, sure she was asleep, she spoke: “I’m sorry, Red. For everything. I’m so sorry. I won’t try to make you stay anymore. I’ll sign the papers, so you can go. Bring them to me, and I’ll sign them.”

“Lizzie,” he beckoned softly, leaning forward again in the chair and reaching for her hand, squeezing it and holding on. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

With effort, she did. Large, glassy and initially unfocused, her eyes eventually found him, and the sweetest smile touched her lips. “Hey. There you are,” she said, sighing contentedly. “They are in a drawer – the papers. Next to my bed. I’ll sign them for you now. I don’t want them to come between us anymore. I hate when you are upset with me, when you’re angry. Will you just promise to keep in touch with me? To call me sometimes and tell me where you are? Will you please do that for me, Red?”

She struggled to stay focused on him, even as her blinks were becoming longer, her breathing deeper. And, he looked strange, so strange; something new and different had taken over his face, and she was too fuzzy to figure it out, to decide what it meant.

“Lizzie, when the time is right, we will talk about all of this. That time is not now. No papers are being signed today or tomorrow or anytime soon. And, I am not going anywhere,” he answered emphatically.

She nodded then, pleased, finally relaxed again and pain free. “You look weird, Red. Dreamy as always, but weird.”

His chuckle was rich and deep. “Oh, my dear, those drugs do wild and wonderful things to you.”

“I know,” she grinned, and then, in dramatic whisper, continued conspiratorially, “They kind of make me feel like I feel after really good sex – when I’m so tired and satisfied and my arms and legs are like jelly and sleep comes before I can even think about it. It’s a good feeling. I’ve missed it.” She paused for a moment, closing her eyes. “The team knows about us now. About our arrangement. But, they know it’s just business. Unconsummated.” She slept then, still holding onto his hand. 

“Oh, sweetheart, we need to scale back the drugs as soon as we can,” he whispered. “For my sake.”

**********************************************************************************************************

Red stayed close during the remainder of her hospital stay, her transition back home, the commencement of her rehab and her return to work. He did his best not to hover, but he made sure she was comfortable, that she could manage all she needed to without difficulty, and that the things she couldn’t do herself were done. She, by her own admission, was not the best patient, but his steady presence, something she could now admit to herself she wanted, helped her stay positive and, at times, even cheerful. 

One evening, several weeks after she was released from the hospital, he approached her as she lay stretched out on her sofa, relaxed, content. He had come over and brought her dinner, as he often did. He never stayed over, and she never asked him to; there had been no discussion of divorce papers or Red’s plans for the future; it had been, very much, a day-to-day existence. Now, he seated himself beside her on the sofa, pressed in close to her hip, facing her, an arm stretched to rest on the back of the sofa. She was surrounded by him, caged in, she thought.

“How are you feeling tonight,” he asked, his eyes soft on hers.

“I feel good. Dinner was wonderful – as usual. I ate too much – again,” she replied, shaking her head in mock exasperation. Truly, she was ever so calm and content in his gentle care.

“How was your check up today? What did the doctor say?”

“It was fine. I am progressing as expected. Hopefully, in a few weeks’ time, I won’t be hobbling with a cane anymore but walking on my own,” she explained.

“I’m happy to hear that news,” he said, nodding thoughtfully. 

She smiled, happy, too, for a good prognosis. He bent ever so slightly toward her and pushed some of her hair away from her cheek, his eyes following his fingers, which lingered, for just a moment, in her blonde locks. His nearness and his ministrations surprised her but pleasantly. Since her time in the hospital, his touch had been rare, doled out in the smallest of doses. She was watching his hand and not his face when he began to tell her. 

“Lizzie, I have to go away. It’s time. I have business that needs attending, things I need to get back to. It is not a good idea for me to stay here in Washington for extended periods,” he explained, pulling his hand away. 

He had caught her off guard, and now she shifted her eyes to his and scrambled for an acceptable, reasonable response, because the one that instinctually bubbled up within her would not do. But, before she could speak, he gently placed his hand over her mouth, his fingertips soft on her lips. 

“Let me finish, Lizzie. I will be going to China first. If things go as expected, I should be there no longer than a week. Then, I must fly to Germany for several meetings. That should take no longer than four days. Once all of my business is concluded, I’d like to take you to dinner. Do you think you might be free Saturday night two weeks from now?”

Her smile was first revealed in her eyes, and then he felt it on his fingers. She nodded. 

“Good. I’ll be here to pick you up at 8 p.m.” He removed his fingers slowly, pulling her bottom lip down ever so slightly as he did. It was only when he stood that she finally blinked. He walked to her foyer to put on his coat, and she sat up and reached for her cane. Her movements were slow, but he waited for her as she made her way to the door. 

“Good-bye, Red,” she breathed, when she finally stood before him. “And, thank you.”

“I’ll see you in two weeks, Lizzie. Take care of yourself.”

She nodded. He put on his hat and opened the door. Once he closed it behind him, she leaned against it, the fingers of her right hand at her lips. 

****************************************************************************************

Between work and rehab two weeks passed quickly enough for Liz, and when Red’s Saturday night arrived, she found herself both eager and anxious – eager to see him, anxious about everything else. He knocked on her door at 7:55 – early, of course. When she opened it and gestured him inside, she saw he carried a box with him. 

“What do you have there, Red,” she asked, in lieu of hello, in lieu of a hug, in lieu of so many things.

“Something for you.” He placed the package on her dining room table, then removed his hat, placed it on the table next to the box and turned to her. “Open it.”

“Now?” She asked even as she approached the table, her eyes shining. He inclined his head and gestured toward the box. 

“Okay,” she laughed nervously. She pulled off the box’s top and pushed back the tissue paper, turning to look at him before peering down at the box’s contents. Then, she gazed at her gift. “Oh.” She pulled the purple and gold silk sari out of the box. She held it at arm’s length so she could look at it more fully, then she pressed it against herself and looked down at it. “It’s beautiful,” she breathed. “I … I love it … So much … Wow ... But, Red, I thought you went to China and Germany this trip, not India.”

“I got this for you when I was last in India. You asked me to get you something from a street vendor – something fun and unexpected. Don’t you remember?”

She stared at him a moment, before nodding slightly. “I remember. I didn’t think … we were not in a good place … I didn’t expect you to do it. I didn’t expect you to listen.”

“I am always listening to you, Lizzie,” he said so seriously, so openly. 

“I’ll remember that,” she said quietly, watching him closely. 

He finally cleared his throat and turned to reach for his hat again. “Shall we go?”

“Yes. But, will you … will you just give me a minute?”

“Of course,” he nodded.

She went to her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She moved to her full-length mirror and admired the sari. She had dyed her hair dark brown – trying to get back to her normal color. The sari had looked perfect with her eyes and true hair color. Red had taken the time, even in his anger, to choose so carefully, so thoughtfully for her. 

Finally, she placed the sari carefully on her bed, spreading it and caressing it with her fingers. Then, she turned back to the mirror and looked at herself and her outfit for the evening. Pants, blouse, and blazer. For months on the run with Red, she had dressed for dinner, worn dresses every night when they dined. Tonight, she had grappled with her outfit, embarrassed by the scar on her leg, and she had chosen to wear pants. She looked back at the sari. Should she? Even as she was considering it, she was pulling off the blazer, unbuttoning her top, pulling her pants down her legs. 

When she emerged, she found him seated on her sofa fiddling with her TV remote control. 

“Red? Ready?”

He turned, and upon seeing her, stood. His eyes widened and his tongue rolled in that way she’d seen it once before. He made a noise, then another that she couldn’t quite decipher and swallowed before moving toward her slowly.

Her smile grew as he neared and she reached for his hand, sliding her fingers down his wrist and the back of his hand until she reached his fingers. “Let’s leave the remote here,” she said, softly. 

She took it from him and returned it to her coffee table, grabbing his hat and her purse on the way. “Okay. We’re running late. Let’s go.”


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

And so it went. They had dinner. It was lovely, and at the end of the night, he walked her to her door, turned down her offer of a nightcap and requested another dinner in three weeks’ time. In the interim, he would be working in Indonesia. He looked her over before he bid her good night, saying nothing, but she knew he had taken notice of the change in her hair color and the fact that she could get around without a cane. She knew he had admired the sari he had chosen for her; she had seen his glances throughout the night. They lingered just until she turned to him or caught his eye. But, he said nothing, and she longed to know, to hear in his own words what he thought of her – what he really thought – when he was looking. But, she didn’t dare ask him.

Three weeks later, he arrived replete in a new suit bearing another gift for her – a handcrafted Indonesian vase. “Some of the world’s best potters, Lizzie,” he said of the Indonesian people. “Our car is waiting if you’re ready.”

Two weeks after that he returned from Italy and managed to have gelato – still frozen – to hand her as he stepped through her front door. “Shall we go, Lizzie? Are you ready?”

After Italy was China again and a porcelain tea set, then Scotland and a wool sweater. It had become a pattern, predictable in its way. He traveled, he returned, they dined, they talked, he walked her to her door and bid her good night. Nothing more, nothing less. 

Finally, four months and six or seven dinners later, he arrived at her door as expected with some top-shelf, exclusive Caribbean rum from his latest trip. He looked tan and relaxed. Had he been on vacation? She never pried, but she wondered. What was he doing on these trips? Were they all business? Were some, like this Caribbean jaunt, all pleasure? “You’ll like this rum, Lizzie. It is best enjoyed on the rocks. Are you ready to go?” 

She was ready – dressed in a new dress, a red one that fit like a glove. She felt wonderful in it, and rather than dwell on the unknowns of Red, she tried to allow her confidence to dictate the rest of their evening. The restaurant he had chosen was elegant and low lit, romantic and decadent. They started with cocktails and finished a bottle of wine by the end of dinner. She turned down dessert, but he insisted they order two for later. Later. Well, she thought. 

And, so, for the first time in months, he came back to her apartment for a nightcap and some dessert after dinner. She took off her shoes and pulled her hair up into a ponytail, while he poured them some rum. She smiled at herself in her bathroom mirror as she listened to ice clink into glasses and Red hum a tune she didn’t know but that sounded so, so nice. All of it – the whole night – was nice. So nice. She joined him on her sofa, and he handed her a glass. Then, he raised his own glass and tilted it toward her in salute before taking a sip; she mirrored his actions, and hummed after her first sip. “Oh. This is good.”

He chuckled, deep and melodic. “Oh, it is. And, very, very dangerous."

“I like a little danger, Red. Maybe more than a little,” she joked. She took another sip and ignored the question in his eyes. 

Their conversation that night was so effortless, so uncomplicated – reminiscent of two close friends catching up on their lives – they had people in common, knew of one another’s work, were well acquainted with one another’s habits and expectations and could easily delight in stories of misadventures or misfortune, champion the other’s successes. It felt so different from what it had on the run, where her anxiety and anger ran rampant, when his need to protect her was paramount. Now, they could relax in one another’s company, revel in it. And for more than two hours, they enjoyed their evening together and their rum, leaving the desserts uneaten in her refrigerator. But, always, in the back of her mind, was the absolute understanding that they were not just two close friends, that what they had was not uncomplicated.

So, that night when he made to leave, she took a chance. She knew what she was doing, knew it could ruin the tenuous situation in which they found themselves. She also knew that these dinners, these gifts, lovely as they were, were meant to appease, to placate. And, neither satisfied her, neither propelled them forward from the limbo in which they dwelled. These gestures kept them suspended when she wanted to land – somewhere, one way or another.

So, she followed him to the door and when he went to reach for the knob, she stepped in front of him. “I had a wonderful time tonight, a really wonderful time. Thank you, Red,” she said, and leaned forward, kissing him on the corner of his mouth, much like she had done their last night on the run together. She let this kiss linger, too, like the other. If he was shaken by it, he didn’t let it show. She reached out a hand, resting it over his heart. When she pulled away, she did so only minimally, and then, she looked him in the eye: “You could stay. Tonight. I’d like it if you did.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath and saw his shocked eyes close up. Then, he backed away just enough for her to lose his comforting body heat, for her hand to fall between them. “Elizabeth. No. No, no. I … thank you, but, no.” He shook his head, more at a loss for words than she’d ever seen him. He looked appalled. 

She stepped back as well and huffed a laugh. “Okay. I see. I finally see, and I understand. Good night, Red. Good night.” She opened the door for him and stepped far out of his way. She was an idiot. Oh man, she was an idiot. 

He stayed stock still for a full minute before he moved toward the door. When he passed her, she kept her eyes averted, and he said so quietly, “I don’t think you do.”

*********************************************************************************************************

After that, she ignored his calls to schedule their next dinner. She just couldn’t do it anymore. She was incredibly embarrassed and ashamed. He had rejected her advances, and it was his prerogative to do that. She was a big girl; she had been turned down before. But from him, it was so humiliating, truly mortifying. He had tried to let her know, given her every opportunity to get the picture. He wanted their arrangement to end, had told her in no uncertain terms; what could be clearer than divorce papers and a repeated request for her to sign them? When she was injured, he had been there as a most trusted friend. Only her stubbornness had allowed him greater access to her and greater responsibility for her than he likely wanted during her hospital stay. And, the dinners. He was staying in touch with her because she’d asked him to, and he was probably rearranging his schedule and cutting his vacations short in order to do it. 

The next few weeks proved difficult. She drank the rest of his rum, visited the shooting range as often as she could, ran as if she were training for a marathon and worked to exhaustion. She also signed the divorce papers and mailed them – a little over a year after their quicky wedding. It was the right thing to do. She knew it was, but doing it left her more adrift than when she had first arrived back in Washington. It was harder to avoid his phone calls this time around, but she did. She needed to be alone, because she was alone, and she needed to feel that, deal with it. She couldn’t cling to something, to him. She wouldn’t. 

************************************************************************************************************************************

Red’s calls stopped finally, and she could breathe again. She even saw the handsome attorney, Adam, on occasion, and it was nice; he was nice. She was coming to terms with her life, her reality. She wasn’t happy. Saying that would be a lie. But, she was trying. So very hard. So, when Adam asked her to attend a black-tie District of Columbia Bar Association event with him, she accepted. 

The event was held in an upscale hotel in the heart of D.C. The ballroom was crowded, but she saw him at the bar almost immediately. Red. Talking animatedly with a woman. She felt sick. She continued on Adam’s arm, however, doing her best to be a good date. She smiled, she danced, she made small talk, she accepted his kisses and she drank the champagne offered her. All the while ignoring what needed to be ignored. As the night waned, she assumed Red had left. She didn’t think he had noticed her, and if he had, well, there was really nothing to say anyway. He was probably in a room upstairs with the woman from the bar. Someone more to his liking than she was. 

When Adam asked for one more dance, she said ‘of course.’ He held her close and talked in her ear as they moved. She tried to concentrate on him, but her mind was elsewhere. In her head, she was already in bed, in comfortable pajamas, reading a good book. That was something to look forward to; she could count on that – her creature comforts, those little things that make up a life. So, she closed her eyes and pictured her bedroom, imagined her skin still warm after a hot bubble bath, the cool sheets welcoming her, her soft pillows cradling her head, the slight roughness of the pages of her well-worn book under her fingers. 

“May I cut in? I’d like the chance to dance with my wife before the night is over.”

Her eyes shot open, and her head jerked up just as Adam abruptly stopped moving. “Your what? Hold on, what? Liz, you’re married?” He dropped his arms from around her. She shook her head and opened her mouth to deny, deny, but Red was quicker: “She is. But, we’re separated; it’s been … difficult. I am trying to be the bigger person and remain amicable. I’m afraid she hasn’t made it easy.”

“Hey, look, I didn’t know,” Adam backed up a step and held his hands up.

Red laughed, the charming fake laugh Liz knew all too well, and patted Adam on the back: “Oh, I know you didn’t. All is well. I’ll just finish out the dance with her, and then leave you two to continue with your evening.”

“No. I don’t think so. Liz, I’m going to go. I trust you can find your own way home. Maybe your husband here can take you,” Adam said angrily, before walking away. She was stunned. Red slipped his arm around her waist and sighed, pulling her toward him. “Come on, Lizzie. Move your feet. People are beginning to stare.”

“Beginning to stare? You are an awful person. A selfish, unfeeling, rude, awful person,” she hissed.

“Well, then that makes two of us, sweetheart,” he rumbled in her ear as he led her effortlessly around the dance floor. 

“Why did you do that,” she asked, angry beyond all measure.

“Oh, I imagine you know why. You saw me earlier, yet you chose to ignore me, as you have ignored my calls for nearly three months. Do you not think that rude? And, selfish and unfeeling,” he asked, his rumbling voice deep and dark near her ear.

“You didn’t have to do that to Adam, to me. I signed your divorce papers nearly two months ago. I sent them special delivery, so I could track them. I know you received them. You didn’t have to lie to him and tell him we’re married. That was cruel and beneath you,” she spat lowly.

“I am many things, Elizabeth, but a liar isn’t one of them,” he said, turning her deftly in his arms. 

“What in the hell are you talking about? I did what you wanted. I signed those damn papers, because you were right. As much as I hate admitting it, you were right about ending that charade. I was wrong for ever trying to stop it. I was wrong about a lot of things.”

“And also, there were many things about which you were not wrong.” The song ended, and she moved to disentangle herself from his embrace, but he wouldn’t have it. “I never filed the papers, Elizabeth. You are, indeed, still my wife, and before you are not, we need to talk. There are things you need to understand.”

“Is this a game to you? My life?” She pulled away from him forcefully then. “I’m still a puppet, your puppet. Aren’t I? No matter how I play it.” She shook her head in disbelief. “I’m leaving. Go back to the woman I saw you with at the bar. Thanks for ruining my evening, and my relationship.”


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5  
She caught a cab home, disgusted, dangerously angry, and so disappointed. She had half expected him to follow her, argue with her outside of the hotel, try to persuade her to talk to him, and offer her a ride home, but none of that happened. She couldn’t even profile him anymore. She couldn’t even predict her own actions or reactions lately; how was she to be expected to predict his? She leaned her head against the window of the cab and closed her eyes wishing for it to end, whatever ‘it’ was; she needed for something to change. 

She was relieved to get home, to strip off her dress and wash the make-up off of her face. She hadn’t cried; she was too angry for that. But, right beneath that anger was despair waiting its turn. She was lying on her stomach in bed, the covers pulled halfway over her head. She needed to shut off all the thoughts running through her mind. She needed to sleep and wake up to a new day. But, it was not to be. Of course, it wasn’t. 

He was at her door. His insistent knock made her want to scream. She threw the covers back and flung herself out of bed, stalking to the door. She wouldn’t ignore him this time; no, she wouldn’t. That arrogant son of a bitch. 

She threw the door open, not bothering to look through the peephole, not bothering to have put on a robe. What did any of that matter? It was him, and she knew it was him. “What do you want?” She kept her arm on the door, blocking his entrance. 

“We need to talk. And, I’d prefer to do it now,” he answered, taking off his hat and fingering it.

“Why? Do you need to hurry back to the hotel? Do you have someone waiting?” She couldn’t help herself. 

“May I come in?” He ignored the comment. 

“Sure. Why not. Come on in,” she stepped back, bitter and resigned, and gestured for him to enter. He brushed past her, too close, too close for her scantily clad body to ignore. She needed to go get a robe. But, as she moved toward her bedroom, he followed her. “What are you doing,” she asked, alarmed. 

“Trying to talk to you.”

“The sofa, Reddington. Wait on the sofa,” she directed. She walked into her room and grabbed her robe. As she was putting it on, her eyes were drawn to her nightstand, the drawer where those divorce paper had resided for months. She closed her eyes knowing that whatever was about to happen mattered; it mattered, and she needed to stop for a second, take a deep breath and get ahold on her emotions. She needed to be in control of herself – no matter what he said or did. She scoffed at the fact that she now required a pep talk before a conversation with him. How had it come to that? After everything?

When she finally joined him on the sofa, his eyes were closed, his head leaned back, his breathing deep and even. “Red,” she called, her voice punctuated with annoyance. He didn’t respond. “Red? Hey!” Nothing. She stood for a minute, before gently sitting down on the sofa and leaning closer to him, looking at his face. She hadn’t seen him in months before tonight. Why had he been there? At the hotel? Was it a coincidence? How much time did he really spend in Washington? There was so much she wanted to know, so much she needed to understand. But, all the fight left her as she leaned into him. He didn’t want her; she knew he didn’t, but that didn’t stop her from wanting him. And, she hated herself for it. She hated that she wanted to feel his warmth, that his smell relaxed her, that his deep, even breathing made her want to rest against him and close her eyes, that more than anything, despite his behavior tonight, he was what she sought, that no matter what he was there to tell her she loved him. The tears came then, as she looked at him and realized the hold he had on her and her absolute failure at overcoming it. “Red,” she whispered. “Talk to me. Help me to understand. Because I don’t. I don’t.”

He shifted then and her heart moved into her throat, her breathing halted. “My darling girl,” he mumbled. His hand reached for her, connected with her forearm and grasped it gently. He sighed then, contented, asleep. She breathed. What should she do? She had never been so close to him for such a long period of time. It was intoxicating, and the most comforting thing she had experienced in years. She leaned her head back, mimicking his position, and watched him, until long minutes later her eyes drifted closed, too. 

 

****************************************************************************************************************************************************

 

When she woke, he was watching her from a chair across the room, a drink in his hand. She sat up and looked around, then back to him. “What time is it?”

“Late,” he answered, his voice gruff and raspy. “Can we have that talk now?”

She ran a hand through her hair and reached down to tighten her robe around her. She felt exhausted and vulnerable, but she wanted to get this over with, so she nodded. 

He blinked and smiled a painful sort of smile. She’d seen it before, always in accompaniment with bad news. She was too tired to brace herself properly, so she would have to bend with the information – or break. “Go ahead, Red. Tell me what you have to tell me. I can take it,” she promised.

“Did you ignore my calls over these months and sign the divorce papers, because I didn’t accept your invitation to spend the night with you?” 

She pushed her body as far back on the sofa as she could, her back pressing, pressing into the cushions. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open, her face aflame, but no words were forthcoming. 

“Will you answer my question, please?” His voice was calm, but his eyes were as intent as she’d even seen them. 

“I have been moving on with my life – something you have professed to want for me. But, tonight you delighted in ruining my relationship with a kind and decent man. You delight in humiliating me,” her eyes welled with angry tears.

“Untrue. But, that was no relationship, Elizabeth. I saw you with him; I watched you. Before I interrupted that dance, what were you thinking about? Your warm bed? Maybe some tea and a good book?” 

“Go to hell,” she yelled, finally fully awake.

“I want – and have always wanted – what is best for you. You deserve the world,” he said with conviction. “You deserve every happiness – a great love, passion, excitement, devotion. You deserve more than that man tonight could ever come close to giving you. But, it doesn’t matter if I believe this, if I want this for you; you need to believe it, you need to want it. You have been given a second chance. Seize it. Never settle. Don’t pine for what should never be. Go seek what you deserve in the world, Elizabeth.”

Her tears fell in earnest now, and her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. She shook her head at him, her voice a whisper: “Why can’t you even call me by my name now? Why can’t you call me Lizzie, Red? Why? What have I ever done to make you want to hurt me so much?”

He just looked at her, his eyes shining, his mouth compressed.

When he continued to remain silent, she forged on: “If tonight is it, Red, if tonight we are going for broke, then I will tell you what you want to know, but then I want you to leave, and I don’t want you to come back.”

He did not move. Not one muscle. 

“I didn’t want to marry you,” she said, laughing derisively. “Another wedding that wasn’t real – that makes three for me – if you count that pathetic vow renewal with Tom. What kind of woman does that make me? A foolish one, certainly. Or worse. But, I married you to protect us, to keep us connected no matter the circumstances, and then, cruelly, you tell me, once we are finally safe, that you are never coming back. That you are leaving me. That was not part of the deal. That was unacceptable, so, yes, I refused to sign those divorce papers, because I couldn’t let you go – couldn’t let you just walk out of my life completely, never to be heard from again. But, that wasn’t my decision to make. Not really. I can’t control you. I can’t control anything. I get that now. 

“My invitation to you that night …,” she stopped then and looked down at her hands clenched in her lap, taking her time before looking back up and continuing. “I needed to fully understand where I stood in your life, how you viewed me. You told me – very clearly. I understand that you don’t want me, not that way. That the very idea of … that … is abhorrent to you. Somehow, along the way, I … I got lost. But, you helped me see the truth, and I signed the papers, so we could both move on from this uncomfortable, disastrous situation. We’re safe now, and our business arrangement needs to end. I just need this all to end, because you make me feel so small now, so mortified by my own honest actions. And, I never expected that. So, I just need this to end. I need you to go.”

She stood then and moved toward the door. He did not follow. “Red, I need you to leave. I cannot do this anymore with you. Please.”

He stared at her, his mouth working, his eyes pained. “You willfully misunderstand me, Elizabeth,” he said, softly, with a hint of perplexity. 

“No. It is you who willfully misleads, and I am done.” She opened the door and waited. 

He finally stood, putting down his glass and reaching for his coat and hat. When he approached her, he did so slowly. When he stood right before her, so close that a deep breath would cause them to touch, he spoke again: “We are nowhere close to done, I’m afraid.” He stepped closer to her then, pressing her between himself and the door, moving his mouth to her ear. “I want the best for you, and I am not that. But, I want you. In ways you cannot even begin to comprehend, I want you. Don’t ever doubt it again.” Then, he kissed her neck below her ear with soft lips and a hint of his wet tongue, long enough for her eyes to fall shut at the feel of him. When he lifted his lips from her, it was only enough for him to speak, each movement causing his mouth to brush her sensitive skin. “I’d like to see you tomorrow. Will you please let me do that? Will you let me come back?”

Her heart was beating furiously. Her arms were hanging at her sides, her palms pressed into the door. She didn’t want to even try to talk, so she nodded. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, kissing her again. Of its own accord, one of her hands moved to cradle the back of his head, to hold him at her neck. Even when his mouth stopped moving on her, he stayed, breathing against her; she felt the flutter of his eyelashes, the scratchiness of his stubble; the moistness of his resting lips. 

After a moment, with great effort, she opened her eyes and removed her hand from his head. She swallowed and cleared her throat. “Good night, Red,” she said, her voice rough and deep.

He lifted his head then and peered into her eyes as he backed away. “Good night, Lizzie.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this story! I am amazed by the response to it! I am going on an extended business trip, so I am ending the story here - for now. I may come home and continue it, but I needed it to be complete to some degree - I don't do well with things hanging out there unfinished. Enjoy!

Chapter 6 

She couldn’t sleep. Not a wink. She finally got up and showered, made herself some coffee, waited for the sunrise. By the time dawn revealed itself, she was dressed for a run. She needed to move, to clear her crowded, agitated mind. 

As her feet struck the pavement – pound, pound, pound, again and again and again – she felt his phantom lips on his neck, his phantom body pressed against hers, the rumble of his deep voice racing through her, his soft hair under her hand, and she smelled him. No amount of running could erase him, no amount of physical punishment could diminish her visceral response to him. And, he wanted her. In ways she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. And, she had doubted it, still did, if she were being honest, but oh, did she like hearing him say it – he wanted her. It set every nerve ending she possessed on end. It made her body sing. And, it made her feel sane. She had not imagined his long looks, the desire in his eyes, that particular tone of voice he seemed to reserve for her, only her. Her endorphins had kicked in, and between that and her newfound information, she felt unstoppable. 

*****************************************************************************************************

But, by the time she reached her door eight miles later, the endorphins had worn off, and she had begun to argue with herself, play devil’s advocate. If he felt this way about her, had felt it for a while, why did he go to such great lengths to hide it from her; why had he pushed her away at every turn, thwarting her advances; why had he fought so hard for a divorce; why did he continue to try to turn her against him? 

The truth she didn’t want to face could no longer be denied – he didn’t want to want her. And, he had only confessed his desires, so she wouldn’t turn him away completely. He had used the weapon available to him last night. Oh, she believed what he said; she had felt the truth of it in every fiber of her being. He hadn’t lied, would never lie, but sometimes the truth could be more painful than a lie. Yes, he wanted her, but he sure as hell wished he didn’t. And, she was quite certain he had never expected her to want him back. That had complicated things for him, made them messy. He likely had no contingency plan for Liz wanting him, no easy exit strategy for this scenario. 

But, honestly, there was an even greater truth than the one Red had revealed last night. The absolute, and now undeniable, truth that, in the end, they were both afraid of the same thing – losing the other – and they would do anything – deny a divorce, buy gifts and dinners, put up with childish behavior, profess reluctant physical desire, whatever it took – to keep that from happening. So, she knew what they didn’t want – a life without the other in it. But, they didn’t seem to know how to easily achieve that anymore. 

Somehow over the years they had apparently become much better at defense than offense. They had fought off the cabal, the FBI, Berlin and countless others, staying one step ahead, preventing their own deaths, preventing imprisonment, keeping one another sane, keeping one another safe – all defense. They were good at stopping the attack, the onslaught of pain and destruction, but, in all of that, they had forgotten what it was like to work from a place other than desperation. 

***************************************************************************************************

When she walked back into her apartment, he was sitting at her kitchen table. He stood when he saw her, relief plain on his face. He took in her attire and sighed. “I was worried. Are you okay?”

“Yes. I’m fine. I see you managed to break in here and make yourself at home,” she said, tipping her chin at his cup of coffee and newspaper on her table. 

“I didn’t break in. I told your building superintendent that I was your husband. He gave me a spare key. Our little arrangement has many advantages,” he said, smiling and advancing toward her.

“Haha,” she said sarcastically, narrowing her eyes at his advancement.

“I’ve been here for over an hour. Long run? You must have awakened very early indeed,” he said, as he closed in on her. 

“I did,” she said, her breathing shallow.

“Your eyes look tired. Did you not sleep well?”

“Not very well. No.” 

“Why not?”

“I expect you know why not, Red,” she answered.

“Hmm. Maybe for the same reasons I didn’t sleep well. If I would’ve known you were awake, too, I would have come over hours ago.” He had finally reached her. He bent his head  
toward her, his intent clear, but she ducked her head away, the war inside her still raging, an army of questions, an arsenal of doubts and insecurities. 

“Lizzie,” he gently reprimanded, but she heard the question, the doubt at the edges of her name. Lizzie, not Elizabeth.

“I’m sweaty,” she was breathless now. 

“I don’t care.” His voice. “I don’t care.” His voice. Then his lips on hers. For the first time. Searching, seeking, insistent. His hands framing her face, tilting it, aligning them, making them perfect. She felt his hum as it left him and entered her. He was savoring her, and she was just trying to keep up. And, then she felt the slide of his tongue, and something within her shifted, locked on, engaged fully, and she was there – with him. In this moment. Like no other they had shared. Like nothing else before. Obliterating her imagination, blowing away her fantasies. The sharp reality so profoundly right. Her armor fell away, and with it her doubts and questions. For the moment they existed out of time, outside of their own realities. And, she knew the truth – the greatest truth – she had been right to love him. And, she also knew she would fight for him to feel that way, too. 

When the kiss finally slowed, she found her arms had snaked their way around him, holding him tightly against her. He was kissing her forehead, her cheek, her neck. “Red, Red,” she said, ragged and wavering. “What’s happening here?”

He pulled back enough to see her more clearly, his hands still cradling her face. “I’m sorry, Lizzie. So sorry for ever making you doubt yourself – especially in regards to me. What I feel for you,” he stopped and shook his head, smiling so brilliantly, so openly. “It isn’t something you should ever, ever have had to question. Forgive me for that. Forgive me for my cold, cruel words and actions. They were performed purposely, but they were misguided, to say the least.”

“Do you know how I feel about you, Red,” she asked, her voice shaky but filled with conviction. 

“Yes.” He nodded. 

“Do you love me?” Her eyes were wide, her heart hammering. 

“Yes.” His response was immediate.

“But, you wish you didn’t. Right?”

His eyes narrowed at that. His head tilted, and she saw his mind spinning in the few seconds it took him to respond. When he answered, he was resolute. “I cannot even fathom that. My love for you is … fundamental … it is the thing from which everything else I feel, everything else I do, stems. It is my compass, my touchstone, my home base. I do not know how to not love you. I never want to know.” 

“So, is it that you don’t want me to love you back?” Her eyes had filled with unshed tears at his admission, but she needed to understand, to push him further. 

“Oh, sweetheart, I want it – in a desperate, man-in-the-desert-finding-water kind of way. I want it. But, having it … having it … it makes me forget who I am, where I am. I told you I would give you a divorce, an annulment, whatever you wanted. I told you I would do as you wish. I will honor that. I want you to understand that I want more for you, better for you than me, so much better. But, at a certain point, I will become selfish. I am nearing that point now,” he released her face and reached around himself, removing her arms from him. He took her hand then and led her to the kitchen table. “Please sit, Lizzie.”

She did, and he took the chair he had previously occupied. He reached beside him into a briefcase she hadn’t noticed before and pulled out a manila envelope that she immediately recognized – the divorce papers. He placed the envelope on the table between them and placed his hand over it. After a few moments, he slowly lifted his hand away and raised his head, turning his gaze toward her. 

“Lizzie, I couldn’t file these papers with you believing what you were believing – that I felt very little for you. I couldn’t let this end without telling you the truth, without apologizing to you for the hurt I caused. No matter what becomes of us, you need to know that my every intention, since you were a small child, was to help you, to keep you safe, to protect you. My every hope was for your happiness and success. I only came to you because of Tom and that untenable situation. Everything that happened after that, well, it all evolved as it needed to, I suppose. Through all of it, I have loved you … and over time, I desired you. I never intended to tell you, never intended to stand in the way of your future. But, you have every right to know, and it was wrong of me to withhold that information.

“We entered into this business arrangement – this marriage – together with one goal, united in its success. I would like us to exit it in the same way – not in the shadow of doubts and questions and misunderstandings. So, here are our divorce papers, signed by both of us, ready to be given to my attorney, who will file them tomorrow. I will not withhold them anymore,” he concluded on a sigh. 

Once she had processed his words, she reached out and touched the envelope, running her fingers along it for a moment before picking it up, opening it and taking out the contents – the documents that had haunted her, prevented her from sleeping in her own bed for months, saddened her, angered her, frightened her. She looked at her signature – tight and small and angry, so unlike her natural wide, loopy, carefree script. His name was on the line right above hers – his penmanship perfect. She had only ever seen their names written in their own hands in such close proximity to one another one other place – their marriage license. She traced her index finger over their names and bit her bottom lip. Then, taking a deep breath, she proceeded to rip the papers in half, then in quarters, then smaller and smaller. When she was done, she put the remnants back on the table in a neat pile.

She finally looked up at his wide eyes. “I hate these divorce papers. I have hated them for months and months.”

He was silent too long, and she couldn’t quite determine his feelings from his expression. Just when she was starting to sweat anew, he burst out laughing. “Well, that was unexpected,” he admitted, after his laughter subsided enough. “What are you proposing, my dear? How do you wish to move forward now?”

“First, I’m going to take a shower, and then I need a nap, but later I’d like to take you out to dinner.” She stood then and moved in front of him, pushing his chair away from the table enough that she could place herself between his legs, allowing her hands to rest on his shoulders. He watched her every move, moving his hands to her waist. “I’m going to wear something very special, something … alluring. I am going to flirt with you all night, listen attentively to all of your stories, drink just enough wine, and then I am going to invite you back here for a nightcap. You are going to say ‘yes.’ When it’s time for you to go, because it’s late and you are a polite date, I’ll walk you to the door and kiss you good night. It’s going to be a really good kiss, one you’ll remember. Then, I’m going to invite you to stay and spend the night with me. And, you’re going to say ‘yes’, because you want to, you’ve always wanted to, and it is the right thing to do, because you love me, and I am your wife.”

He swallowed and nodded once, his eyes a bit glazed over. “What time should I pick you up?”


	7. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long time coming, but I felt a resolution - a peering into their future - was warranted. I hope it works. Let me know!

Two months had passed since Liz ripped up their divorce papers, invited Red out to dinner, dressed especially for him, hung on his every word through their meal, flirted with him shamelessly, provocatively, drank scotch with him afterwards at her apartment, and walked him to her door, only to, once there, kiss him with such a passionate possessiveness that, without hesitation, he took her proffered hand and followed her to her bed. 

Red had taken his time with her that night, savoring the moment, all of it, committing it to memory, until he couldn’t anymore, and she was there, right there, ready for him, eager for him. In that place, skin to skin, with nothing between them, they were perfect. And, that perfection, tried time and time and time again, never faltered. They were seamless, breathtaking. She could read him, anticipate him, please him in ways he’d never expected. And, for her part, no one had ever come close to loving her like that. 

And, so very quickly that love changed her, bolstered her, centered her. She found she no longer moved through life unbuoyed and aimless. She knew exactly who and what she was. But, what surprised her and shouldn’t have was he didn’t. Outside of their marital bed, he didn’t; he struggled, waging a war he was doomed to lose, fighting old inner demons that were strong and resolved despite their age. As much as he wanted her, and she knew he did, he kept his distance – emotionally if not physically. He wouldn’t let her in, not really, not the way she wanted, not the way he needed. And, it was wearing on her. And, on him. She could see it, even if he couldn’t. She was determined to wait it out, to be strong for them both while he fought his demons, while he reconciled with himself this new life, but she knew she couldn’t do that indefinitely. He had to be in this – all in – for this marriage to work, for it to be more than an arrangement, for it to count, for it to be real. 

 

**************************************************************************************************************************************************************

They were back in the penthouse in Chicago for a little getaway, a long weekend of dinners, museums, shopping and love-making. It was a place she was fond of for reasons she still kept to herself. She had first acknowledged a very deep-rooted, almost desperate wanting of him, of all of him, in this very room when they were on the run. She had cried in her bed after leaving him that particular night, finally understanding that she hoped for something more with him, something she never expected to have. Now, she was his wife in a way she wasn’t then. In a way she never thought she’d be. But, it wasn’t enough; it still wasn’t enough.

Deep in thought, it took her a moment to realize he had left her side on the sofa to stand at the window, facing away from her, looking out at the night, the city life below. Her eyes charted a course down his body – his dress shirt stretched across his strong shoulders, tapering to his waist, slacks hugging him perfectly, stocking feet peeking out beneath. He cut a fine figure, her husband. She wanted to take pride in that, revel in it, but she couldn’t, because he wasn’t hers completely. Not yet. Something was wrong. She knew it. But, she’d kept quiet, waiting for him, waiting, and now she’d had enough.

“Red, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, hmm? I think it’s time.” Her voice drifted to him, a warm breeze, the earliest warning of an impending storm. 

He didn’t answer her, didn’t tilt his head in acknowledgment, didn’t turn away from the view at the window to look at her. She stood then, approaching him slowly. She stilled close behind him, not touching, but warming him, generating heat and electricity between their bodies. 

“I have to go away, Lizzie.” And, there it was. The physical distance that she knew would eventually inevitably accompany the emotional distance. 

They stayed unmoving, the air growing thick between them. 

When she finally did speak, it was low and controlled, but the defeat was there lurking in the shadows: “I could’ve just signed my name, you know? It would have been so easy. So much easier than this. But, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t even be in the same room as those divorce papers. I couldn’t let you go. I couldn’t. Not then. And, I certainly am not going to do it now.”

“I’ll be gone for a while. Business in China, then Germany, the Netherlands and Belgium. I’ll bring you back something special.”

“You know what we have. You do. You know what I feel. I have given myself to you. You’ve had me, my love, for such a long time, and for much of that time, you’ve chosen to ignore that gift, to push it away. A gift I know you cherish.”

“When I return we can go for a nice dinner.”

“Don’t do this.” 

“You can catch me up on what’s going on at work, with your friends, with everything.”

“Think about what you’re doing. Think of what you’re risking.”

He said nothing. His back, once an enticing silhouette against the night sky, now caused her to lose all composure: “Look at me! At least have the courtesy of looking at me when you’re telling me you’re leaving me! You are a better man than this, Raymond Reddington.”

He turned to her then, pained but angry. “I think you are mistaken, my dear. I am no better than this. Much worse, in fact, given the chance.”

She held his gaze, kept him captive for as long as she could, until, finally, he turned away from her. “I won’t make this easy for you, Red,” she promised.

“I leave in the morning,” he said, walking out of the room. 

She let him go. For the moment, she let him go. She took his place in front of the window, and stared out at the Chicago skyline for a long time. 

That night, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of not joining him in bed. She not only joined him but made love to him with an achingly slow, exquisite thoroughness that left them both shaking and stunned into silence. She slept with her arms wrapped around him, but in the morning she let him go again. 

From the bed, she watched him gather his last necessary things, and when he turned to her, sliding his eyes across her enticing, relaxed, sleepy figure, he paused briefly, hesitant, reluctant, before telling her the jet would be waiting for her. She could return to Washington whenever she was ready. He had procured another jet for himself. 

“Good-bye, Red,” she said, her voice strong, even. 

“Good-bye, Elizabeth.”

**************************************************************************************************************************************

It was a week before he called her. “Elizabeth.”

“Where are you, Red?”

“China.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“There is much to do here.”

“So, it would be hard to say when you’ll return. Am I right?”

“It’s too early to tell.”

“Well, thanks for the call.”

“Good night, Elizabeth. Sleep well.”

“Good night.”

*******************************************************************************************************************************************************

It took two more weeks for Liz to break down and call him. “Where are you now, Red?”

“I am still in China, Elizabeth.”

“I know what you’re doing, and it won’t work.”

“My business here is taking longer than expected,” he said, sighing heavily into the phone.

“Don’t insult me. Let’s call a spade a spade, shall we?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yes, you do. You know exactly what I mean.” And, she hung up on him. 

************************************************************************************************************

 

Five weeks after Red’s departure, he called Liz in the wee hours of the morning, waking her from a restless sleep. “Red? Where are you?”

“Elizabeth, Lizzie, I miss you.” His voice was soft and slurred. He’d been drinking.

“Then come home to me,” she pleaded softly. 

“I can’t.”

“Why not? Tell me why not.”

“Where are you, sweetheart? Tell me where you are.”

“I am in bed. Alone. … What you’re doing? It hurts. I know you understand that, and you are doing it anyway. You are hurting me. I hate what you’re doing. I hate why you’re doing it. And, I do know why.” 

“No, you don’t,” his voice was shaky. 

“Yes, Red. I know what you are afraid of, but you don’t need to be afraid. Not anymore.”

“You can’t know that,” he said, so quietly.

“I know. I am your wife.”

“Good night, darling girl.”

“Red …” The line went dead.

****************************************************************************************************************************************

Eight weeks after Red’s departure, Liz received a package from China, a beautiful hand-painted bowl. There was no card, no explanation, though none was needed. She understood what this was. 

She was still working with the task force, and things had been busy over the past several months. No one was the wiser regarding the latest developments in her relationship with Red, so his absence brought forth no questions, no concerns. They knew she was married to him still – on paper, anyway – for reasons they had all yet to fully understand, but even the novelty of that bombshell had worn off. She had continued to live in her own apartment even after she and Red had embarked on an intimate relationship, though she had rarely been alone there since. So, two months after Red’s departure, her life appeared unchanged to those around her. But, appearances are so deceiving. In truth, it – she – was upended. And, she’d had enough. Pressing his number, she held the phone to her ear. 

“Elizabeth?” 

“I received my present. The bowl is beautiful.”

“I’m pleased you like it.”

“I do,” she paused, turning in bed, rustling the sheets. He cleared his throat. “Red, I’m not going to ask you where you are anymore or when you’re coming back. I’m not going to play this game with you. I shouldn’t have to. Not anymore. There isn’t going to be a divorce, no matter what you do, but if this is the arrangement you want, you can have it. I won’t fight you. I won’t beg you. … Just don’t send me any more presents. Don’t insult me. Don’t diminish what we are to each other.” She took a deep breath, teetering on a sea of suppressed emotions. “I love you. I’ll always love you. Don’t ever doubt that. Don’t doubt me. Or yourself. Good-bye, Red.”

“Elizabeth. Lizzie …”

She hung up. 

*************************************************************************************************************************

She was married to a man who loved her. She didn’t question that part of it. Not ever. But, the institution itself, left her full of questions, of bitterness and doubt. Had she trapped him? In the end? Did he resent her for denying him a divorce? Did the legalities of their arrangement disturb him, set his careful business planning on end? Did their marriage compromise his ability and desire to live an independent life? He was a solitary man. She’d known this. But, she also knew he hadn’t always been; he’d been married before, had a family, and, by his own admission, had reveled in it. But, over the course of the two months they’d spent together as lovers, they’d never talked about the future, not really. 

So consumed were they with the present, with their newfound intimacy, that they had found no time to discuss what they wanted in the years ahead. In truth, they’d been acting like infatuated teenagers ruled by only passion, lacking even an ounce of reason. But, despite that reality, there was another – the one where they were husband and wife, bound together – legally, if in no other way. And, at this point, she was grateful for the institution despite her misgivings of it. Because of it, one way or the other, sooner or later, he would return to her, and when he did, she would be ready for him. 

The early days of their arrangement had been fraught with discussions of money, attorneys, real estate, secret bank accounts, safety deposit boxes, storage facility locations, safe houses, phone numbers and contacts for every situation. When their arrangement had been just business, their communication had been paramount and stellar. Now, she would rely on those early days to build their future … with or without him. 

***********************************************************************************************************

Over the next three months, she bought a beautiful brownstone in Georgetown, and a spacious cabin by a lake in rural Virginia. She took a week off of work and flew down to Florida on Red’s jet and bought a quaint, but pricey, house in Key West. She went about furnishing each house quickly and efficiently. She had never had access to so much money before, and she had felt drunk with the power of it. It was heady to get what you want, exactly what you want, without the usual pang of anxiety that accompanied a spending splurge. She had no buyer’s remorse, only remorse of a different sort, but she wouldn’t dwell on that. 

She hadn’t talked to him, not at all, in three months. Oh, but he had tried calling. And, just like in the early days, after the clearing of her name and her return home, she had refused to answer him. She knew what she was doing then and why she was doing it, just as she did now. He had a decision to make. And, it could only be his, without influence, without guilt, without coercion, without her. 

Finally, when all the houses were settled, and she was back at work, Aram came to her. “Liz?”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“I thought you should know. Mr. Reddington just called asking about you. I told him you were here, but he didn’t want me to disturb you. I told him you’re fine. You are fine, aren’t you, Liz?”

“Um, yes, of course. Of course, I’m fine,” she forced a laugh. 

“That’s weird, though, right? I mean, why didn’t he just call you himself?” He watched her for a few seconds before shrugging his shoulders and walking back to his desk. 

Why, indeed. She sighed. “Damn it, Red.”

That night she ran into Adam, the attorney she’d dated that Red had scared away so long ago. He was dating someone else, but it wasn’t going well. She understood. Her marriage wasn’t going well, either. So, they had coffee. They talked. They decided to talk again over coffee the following evening. It was easy, convenient – both the conversation and the location, down the street from her new house. She needed a friend who knew much less about her; someone she could talk to about her absentee husband, someone who only knew Red as her absentee husband. Maybe with enough information, Adam could help her gain perspective. She knew she needed some. The lost, unmoored feeling was back, pushing against her strong resolve to stay focused and positive.

Liz and Adam soon began meeting twice a week at the café if their schedules allowed. Without the threat of romance, she had fun with him. He made her laugh; he challenged her politics; he helped her understand the fundamentals of hockey, games of which seemed to play incessantly on the café’s TV. He was becoming a bright spot in her increasingly gloomy daily life. 

As Adam walked her home one night, they laughed over a silly TV show they were both watching. She waved good-bye to him, laughing, as she climbed her front steps: “See you Thursday.” 

By the time Adam was halfway down the block, she was still fumbling with her keys – there were too many new keys on her key ring. When she finally had the key in the lock, a hand came to cover her own, and a body pressed into her back. She gasped loudly; caught unaware and without her weapon, her mind scrambled against its fright for a way forward – until the feel and scent of him registered, and despite everything she relaxed into him. 

“Hello, my dear.”

“Red.” She moved to turn around, but he held her in position. 

“Open the door, Elizabeth. I’ve been waiting quite a while. I didn’t realize you were on a date, or I wouldn’t have lingered. I’d like to go inside now, if you don’t mind.” 

Anger burned in her gut as she turned the key in the lock. She walked into the house and dropped her bag right inside the door and stripped off her coat, throwing it in the direction of the coat rack. He shut the door, locking it behind him. She turned to him then, and the jaunty tilt of his head made her want to throttle him. “How dare you! How dare you, you son of a bitch!”

“How dare I? If you are so determined to date your young attorney, Elizabeth, by all means, go ahead. But, don’t curse me when I acknowledge the fraternization.”

“You have no right to make accusations or assumptions. No right to judge me after what you’ve done.” She had advanced on him, standing three feet away from him, seething. 

He appeared as cool as a cucumber, but she knew better. His tells blazed hotly. He was angry, too. “And what have I done? Pray, tell? You would not know, my dear, because you wouldn’t take my calls. Maybe I’ve just discovered the reason why.”

“I didn’t have to take your calls to know you left me, Red. You walked away. I think I know why. I do. But, after so much time, I’ve doubted my reasons. So, I need you to tell me now. Why? Why did you leave me? Because it was hard for you? Was the intimacy too much, the pressure to open up too difficult? Did I demand too much of you? Or, was it – I – not what you expected? Did I bore you? Did you tire of me? What? Tell me! Because I’ve waited for you, Red. I’ve trusted you to come back to me. But, the thing is you don’t trust me. You never have. You expect me to leave you. You’ve waited for it. But, it’s you who’s faltered. I never have.”

She stopped, her throat already sore from yelling, and took a deep, shuttering breath. 

“Don’t cry, sweetheart. Please, don’t cry,” he stepped forward, brushing his thumbs tenderly across her cheeks. 

“Stop it,” she whispered. 

“Lizzie,” he said softly, reverently, cupping his hands around her face.

“Stop it,” she whispered again.

“My God, I’ve missed you.” He caressed her face with his hands and eyes. 

“Let me go,” she said, pulling away from him. “You’ve been gone more than six months. I want to know why. I want an explanation. And, I want to know your intentions now. Until I get that, I have nothing more to say to you.”

He nodded. “That’s fair. May I come in,” he asked, gesturing to the living room.

She laughed sharply, shaking her head. “This is your house, Red. I bought it for you, for us. I thought it might … help …” She shrugged, feeling foolish. “I don’t know.”

“It’s lovely. You chose well,” he said, kindly, peering into the living room.

“I need to change,” she said, sighing, as she began to climb the stairs. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

When she returned, he had opened a bottle of wine and lit a fire in the fireplace. He was seated on the sofa in his shirtsleeves, waiting. She stood in the doorway observing him. He looked tired, a bit slimmer than when he left. She took a deep breath and hung her head. Red. She both loved and hated him in this moment. 

When she’d gathered herself enough, she sat beside him on the sofa, leaving space between them. 

“Wine?” He slid her glass closer to her on the coffee table.

“Thanks,” she said, softly. 

“Are you dating the attorney again, Elizabeth?” His voice sounded stern, but she didn’t miss the subtle uncertainty that colored it.

“No, I am not. Are you leaving again?” She asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“No. No, I won’t be leaving again.”

“What do you plan to do then, Red?”

“I’ve been unfair to you. I’ve been a miserable excuse of a man, of a husband.”

“Yes, you have – at least for the past six months you have.”

“This, all of this, hasn’t gone like I’d imagined it would. Early on, I thought you would certainly divorce me when the time came, and I would be left to chart my own course. To think otherwise, to consider other possibilities, just invited in something more painful than I could bear. So, when you ripped up those divorce papers, and let me in, welcomed me, I … uh… I lost myself in that. I was floating, part of the most magnificent wave. For those two months, I couldn’t rise above the tide; I didn’t want to at first; but, soon not being able to get my bearings … Lizzie, after so many, many years of self-denial, of repressing my feelings, of hoping for something perfect for you, something that wasn’t me, that didn’t include me, I had difficulty accepting, truly accepting, what was before me.” He stopped then, elbows on his knees, head bent, eyes on the hardwood floor. 

“And what was before you,” she asked so softly, needing him to say it.

“Everything. Everything,” he said matter-of-factly. “All I’ve ever hoped for but better. For a man like me, with the life I’ve led, how could this be? So, I left, avoiding the crash of that wave that was sure to come. I had business, was happy to have it. I needed the distance. The work went poorly, though, Lizzie. I lacked the focus needed, the attention to detail required. I had to fix things before I could come home or there would have been long-term damage, issues with my client that would have haunted me, us. But, you were correct in your assessment; the truth is I didn’t want to come back too quickly or at all if I saw you could make it without me. I needed time; I thought maybe you did, too.”

“I didn’t. I didn’t, but I would have been happy to give you the time you needed if only you’d have talked to me openly and honestly,” she said, leaning forward to better see his face, to coax him to look at her. “This? You and me? It’s not just an arrangement anymore. Not for me. It’s a marriage. A real one. I want a real one. Where we live together. Where we have a home. Where you ask me how my day went, and I ask you. Where there is no doubt that at night, every night, we will sleep beside one another. You have a responsibility to me, and I to you. And, not just a legal one. If you hurt, then so do I. If you’re happy, then so am I. That’s what I want. A real marriage.”

He turned toward her then, disbelief brimming in his eyes. “Even after all of this? After all I’ve done to hurt you?”

“We’re so close, Red. So close to succeeding at this, if you would just let us.”

He nodded, his lips tipping up ever so slightly. “Well, we have a home now, don’t we? Or homes, I should say.”

She lifted her eyebrows at him. “Yeah, we do. So, you know about that?”

“My accountant did alert me that my wife purchased three homes in three months. Yes.”

“Hmm. Is that why you came back? To make sure I didn’t buy a home a month for the rest of the year?”

“Absolutely not. You can buy a home a day if you’d like. I came back because I couldn’t bear being away from you any longer. I was beside myself. I wanted to see if you could make it without me, and it turns out I can’t make it without you. I never could. I’ve been a fool to ever try. And, I won’t ever again. I’ve missed you in every possible way.”

“Aram told me you called him,” she said, shame coloring her voice. 

“Why can’t you do me the courtesy of answering my calls? It’s a cruel punishment you inflict.”

“No crueler than you, than what you've done. But, I am sorry, Red. I am, but there are things I can’t bear. Your absences are one of them.”

“I want a real marriage, Lizzie. I want the things you want. Very much. But, I can’t promise I’ll be perfect. I am a difficult man sometimes,” he admitted.

“Yes, you are, but I love that difficult man – as long as he stays beside me,” she reached for his hand, grasping it tightly in her own.

“I can promise you that. And, Lizzie, I never doubted you or your love for me. I only doubted my ability to accept it fully and to give back to you all that you deserve. I do love you, sweetheart. So very much”

“I know you do. I know. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t work so hard to keep you. It's not easy being married to the Concierge of Crime.” 

“No. No, it isn't, my darling girl,” he chuckled, nodding. 

She lifted her glass and gestured for him to do the same. “A toast to better days, to a future together, to a real marriage.”

He touched his glass to hers. “To a real marriage.”


End file.
